


He's a Keeper

by elenawrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Football | Soccer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenawrites/pseuds/elenawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the very first practice, Harry knew that he would be falling hard for the goalkeeper in a matter of days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's a Keeper

There it was again.

“That was good, Harry. Really good.”

_He’s saying my name._

_He’s saying my name._

“Hey! Defense, get _back!”_

Harry’s head snapped up at the shout from the goal, and he realized with dread that the opposing team was bringing the ball down the middle, quickly approaching their goal. Where he was supposed to be defending.

But what was he doing?

Standing off to the left, lost in his thoughts about the fact that the keeper had said his name again.

_“Get back!”_

_Fuck._

Harry broke into a sprint.

-

From the very first practice, Harry knew that he would be falling hard for the goalkeeper in a matter of days. Draco Malfoy, tall and lean, with quick hands and a grin that made Harry feel like he would melt? It was a surprise he had lasted until next practice a week later.

Harry had never been much of a defender. He was better at midfield, had enough endurance to run the length of the field as was needed, always there to knock the ball back into play when it skittered away from his team.

He wasn’t expecting the coach to put him as the last defender before the goal in their scrimmage, not when the bigger, better defenders were there, but he didn’t mind much when the ball was on the opposite side of the field and it was just him and Draco.

“I can barely see what’s going on over there, can you?”

Draco’s voice came from behind Harry, just as it did every time they spoke, and Harry had to resist the urge to turn around so they could carry a proper conversation.

“No. Not really sure what’s going on,” he muttered, instantly wishing he had been louder. Damn his nerves. This was his teammate; surely he could speak to Draco normally.

“Sorry?”

“No. I can’t see it either,” Harry repeated, and he glanced over his shoulder for a moment, catching Draco smiling at him. He turned back to the field as fast as he could, trying to focus on whatever the offense was doing up there.

Thirty seconds or so passed before they screwed up, letting the opposing team take the ball back into Harry’s territory.

_Shit shit shit._

He was supposed to be there, to be ready, he couldn’t let the ball get past this time. Not with Draco ten yards away yelling his name and telling him to keep going.

Harry crashed into the opposing forward, attempting to take the ball away as quickly as he could and clear it up the sideline. The forward, who was much bigger than Harry, stuck out his elbow and tried to maneuver around Harry. Harry, his mind half on Draco and half on this fight, didn’t relent, leaning on the other boy and continuing to keep the ball out of the middle.

“No, leave it, it’s Harry’s, it’s Harry’s!”

Harry’s brain seemed to shut off. Luckily his footwork remained working, and soon he had cleared the ball up to his teammates.

_Harry’s._

_It’s Harry’s._

This was not good for his defending skills.

“Nice work back there. Seriously, nice job, Harry.”

Definitely not good.

-

“It’s too hot for running,” said Ron, sprawling out onto the grass. “The only thing the heat’s good for is ice cream. Yeah, Coach, how about we just get ice cream?”

Harry was in full support of this idea. Even the idea of their warm-up laps was making him sweat, and his legs already ached.

“You know what? Winning team gets ice cream, ” their coach said, looking as if he wouldn’t mind laying down in the grass too. “I’ll buy it.”

Suddenly everyone was very much awake and ready to play, including Harry.

“Yes. Alright, Ron, Dean, Anthony, Harry, take that side. Draco in goal. The rest of you, defend the opposite side.” The coach motioned to the left half of the field, and the boys ran off, chattering about winners and ice cream and strategy.

-

“Good… Good save, Draco.”

Harry clenched his hands into fists. God, he sounded nervous. Draco was always supportive of him, why couldn’t he at least return the favor and compliment the goalkeeper for once without it being awkward?

“Thanks. It was close,” came the reply at Harry’s back, and Harry could imagine Draco shaking out his arms and stretching so that his shirt rode up his back.

Harry could do quite a lot of imagining, actually.

“One more goal and we win. I can’t wait to see Blaise when he has to watch us eat without him.”

Harry smiled at the ground, slowly relaxing his hands and laughing slightly.

The offense had the ball on the opposite side of the field, passing it back and forth right in front of the goal. They were so close, _so close-_ Harry craned his neck to see over the midfielders and then-

“Yes! Yes, we won! How’s that, Zabini? We won!”

Ron came running over to where Harry stood, whooping and clapping Harry on the shoulder. He glanced back at their goal. “Nice work, Draco, really saved us there.”

_Why can’t I just say something easy like that, like a normal human being?_

Draco smiled at Ron and fell into step with him and Harry. “You too, both of you.”

Harry fought off a blush and mumbled “thanks,” at the ground.

He swore Draco grinned at him again.

-

“Mmm, we should do this more often,” Dean said, laying out on his back. The team was finishing up their ice cream, shoving the wrappers into a plastic bag and waiting for everyone to finish. Or really, just waiting for Harry and Draco.

“Hurry up, we’re going to scrimmage again soon,” said Blaise, looking annoyed as he watched his friends devour their prize.

Harry scarfed down the rest of his ice cream, tossed the wrapper into the bag, and stood up. Draco did the same a moment later, and then began to fall back into position.

“Oh- um, Harry, you’ve got a little- right there- just-” Draco motioned at his cheek, looking pointedly at Harry.

Harry felt himself flush.

Typical! Just typical, the one time he was eating in front of Draco, and he proceeded to smear chocolate all over his face!

Harry let out a nervous, somewhat-hysterical sounding laugh, brushing at his face hurriedly.

“Did I get it?”

Draco stepped closer. “No, right there.” He pointed at his own cheek, yet Harry was still unable to find the smear.

“There?”

“No, no, just over-” Draco stepped closer still, and Harry began to laugh more now.

“Right here.” Draco reached out and swiped Harry’s cheek with his fingers. “Got it.”

Harry was positive that his face was a flaming red as he stammered out a “th-thanks,” and Draco went back to the goal.

“Hey! Harry, you going to play defense or what?”

Harry looked over at Ron, who was standing next to the opposite goal.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m playing,” he said, staying exactly where he was. What was that about, the game hasn’t even started yet, and of course he was playing defense. He was in front of Draco’s goal, wasn’t he?

“Harry,” the voice from behind him said, and Harry could hear his heartbeat in his ears, “You’re  on the other side. We switched, see?”

 _Shit!_ Of course they had switched! And of course Harry had to make a fool of himself in front of Draco!

“Oh! Oh, right. Switched.”

Harry took off for the other side of the field, mortified, yet still pleased at the thought of the moment earlier.

-

_Offense? Against Draco?_

What was he doing up here?

Harry hadn’t played offense all season, having spent every game and practice back near the goal. Now, in their final scrimmage, he was against Draco. It felt wrong to be able to see him, and Harry missed the light conversation they had when the ball was far up the field.

“Get open!” shouted Ron, who was frantically looking for a pass. Harry ran to open space and waved, and soon the ball was flying past him, going off into the corner of the field.

 _Fuck._ He should’ve gotten that, and now he would have to compete with Draco to get to the ball first.

Harry sprinted to the ball, and, noticing Draco doing the same, clenched his fists and ran faster. He was almost there, just a few more yards, and then-

Harry was unable to stop. He felt himself crash into someone else, a very warm, good-looking someone else, and fall on top of them, panting and holding himself up on one arm.

“Shit. Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t- Are you okay?”

Draco propped up his elbows, slowly grinning up at Harry.

Harry’s brain went fuzzy for a moment.  

_Do people normally smile like that after being tackled by the opposition?_

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I knew what I was getting into.” Draco was still smiling, and he had tipped up his chin a bit, making Harry want to cup his face and kiss him right there on the ground.

“You could get off me, you know.”

 _Fuck!_ What was he doing? Why was he still here?

“Or not, I don’t mind, actually.”

_What?_

Harry mentally shook himself and gathered the courage to meet Draco’s eyes.

“Excuse me?”

Draco was blushing. “I said, I don’t mind you being, well… Here.” He nodded at Harry.

“What?”

Draco shut his eyes, took a breath, and spoke. “Jesus, do I have to spell it out?” His eyes opened again and Harry was distracted momentarily by the stormy gray.

“Harry, I like you.”

Harry was suddenly very focused on the conversation.

“I’ve liked you since the first practice.” Draco’s voice was almost a whisper. “You were so nervous, but you played well, and soon I wasn’t watching you just because you were on defense.” Draco laughed for a moment. “I like you,” he repeated softly, and Harry felt himself blush furiously as a grin spread across his face.

_Jesus Christ._

Somehow Harry was leaning in, his lips inches away from Draco’s. Harry was surprised by his own bravery as their noses brushed, and he raised an eyebrow before murmuring, “’s this okay?”

Draco, acting in response, reached up and pressed his mouth against Harry’s. He was warm and soft, and Harry’s hand reached around the back of his neck, gently threading through his hair.

_This is happening._

Harry could barely hear Ron’s good-natured shout _(“Make out some other time, we’ve got a game to win!”)_ over the sound of his own heartbeat and Draco’s contented sigh.

The ball, merely feet away, lay forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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